


Several Small Constellations

by spirithorse



Series: Tales from the Titan Age [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-29 01:14:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3876796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spirithorse/pseuds/spirithorse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of short stories for Marco Bodt Week on Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tell Me More

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posted on [my tumblr](eachainn.tumblr.com). Main tumblr for Marco Bodt week can be found [here](http://marcobodtweek.tumblr.com/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: Precious Cinnamon Bun. It's my spin on a modern day Grease AU.

Marco clutched his books to his chest as he trailed along after Mina. The halls of the high school hadn’t looked so complicated on the maps, but maybe that had been because they were empty. With the hall filled to the brim with students, Marco found himself wondering if his guide had taken the wrong turn. They were supposed to be heading to the cafeteria after all, and Marco was sure that they were on the wrong side of the school.

He slowed down to shuffle through his stack of books, trying to find his map. He trusted Mina, but he needed the glance to help orient himself. He had been so sure of himself in the morning, and now that was all lost in a haze of confusion.

“Marco, come on!” He glanced up to see Mina pushing her way through the crowd to get to him. She managed to wiggle through spaces that Marco thought was impossible for anyone to get through and grab his arm. He gave up searching for his map when she tugged on his arm, allowing her to lead him through the crush and out a side door.

Marco blinked in the bright light of the afternoon, wishing that he had a hand free to shield his eyes. Mina didn’t seem to have the same problem. She continued to tug him along the side of the school.

It was a relief when they stepped back into the shadow of the building, Marco picking up his pace to walk beside her. Mina didn’t glance over at him, instead continuing the conversation that had stopped when the two of them had slipped out of their English class.

“I promise that these guys are the nicest people you’ll meet. One of them should be able to pick up where I have to leave you for the day, and feel free to ask any of them for help with anything. They’re all really easy to identify, just look for the jacket.” Mina swung her arm out, showing Marco the pink jacket that was hanging there.

He shifted the books in his arm. “Are you all on the same team or something?”

“No. We’re all over the place here, but we hang out a lot. It started with Sasha, Hannah and Christa; they all came from Rose Middle School together and kept hanging out. Hannah and I are on the debate team together, which is how I got pulled in and I brought Annie in when she transferred down from Stohess. Mikasa joined because she and Sasha used do soccer together and because Armin always hung out with Christa. They both do tutoring after school. Armin’s an honorary member, mostly because he’s already part of the Scouts, although all of the Scouts are nearly a part of our group anyway. Most of them just don’t want to wear the pink jacket. I’ll see if I can point out a few of them to you. They’re all good guys, if a bit rough around the edges. Oh, and I almost forgot about Ymir. She’s the only one that’s kind of both because she and Christa hang out all the time.” There was a strange pause, Mina throwing him a sideways glance before catching her breath. “She’s always stealing Christa’s jacket and wearing it around. It’s a running joke between the two of them.”

Marco nodded, unsure what to say after the concise history of the group that Mina was taking him to. He didn’t recognize any of the names, of people or places. He clutched his books tighter to his chest, swallowing harshly as Mina darted from his side and around the corner.

“Hey girls!”

Marco stepped around the corner in time to be greeted by a few “Heys,” one surprisingly deep. He glanced over, surprised to see a burly blond boy sitting in the middle of the group of girls. The blond just gave him a shrug and held up a Tupperware. “Sasha brought cookies.”

“Really?” Mina rushed towards him, Marco watching in awe as she practically climbed the boy to grab at the plastic container. “There’s no way you are hogging those, Reiner.”

Reiner chuckled at held the container above her head. “Introduce the new guy first. He looks like you’ve led him straight into a trap.”

Marco was sure that he didn’t look that bad, even if he was slightly intimidated by such a large group of people. Two picnic tables were pushed together and there were still kids sprawled on the grass or sitting on the end of the tables. And all of them were looking at him.

Marco gave them his best smile and started backing away, surprised when one of the girls stood up and slapped Reiner on the back of the head.

“Look what you’ve done. You scared the precious cinnamon bun away.”

“Food nicknames already, Sasha?” Marco looked over at the boy with his head shaved. “I thought that was _our_ thing.”

Sasha slipped off the end of the picnic table to hug the boy. “I’m sorry. Do you want to be my Swiss roll?”

The two of them collapsed into laughter, Marco staring at them before taking another step back. He would thank Mina for bringing him to meet her friends and then excuse himself to eat in another corner of the school. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to stand the chaos.

Mina was quick to dart back to his side, coaxing him a few steps forward. “Okay guys, tone it down, at least until he gets used to it. And, for your sake, here’s everyone real quick.” She started by pointing to the blonde girl sitting on the grass, working her way up onto the picnic tables from there. “We have Annie, Bertholdt, Reiner, Sasha, Connie, Hannah, Franz, Mikasa, Armin, Christa and Ymir. That’s everyone. Everyone, Marco.”

He laughed nervously and gave them all a wave. “Hello. I just transferred here from Jinae.”

There was a moment of unnerving silence before Sasha unwound herself from Connie. “Oh my God, he _is_ a precious cinnamon bun!”

That got the others laughing, Marco following along. It was still a huge group of people, but he could feel himself relaxing. As long as he had names, he could deal with a huge group of people.

Mina nudged him forward again, Marco surprised when Reiner vacated his space at the table to sit down on the ground. The blond took a surprising amount of time to sit down next to Bertholdt and Annie, Marco watching them for a moment before sitting down in the empty spot on the bench. He dropped his books and lunch bag on the ground, watching as Mina circled the table to her own spot.

She grinned down at him before slapping her palm on the table for attention. “Marco, pass your schedule down, we’ll see who can take you where and when.”

“You don’t have to-”

He was cut off as Sasha reached over to slap his shoulder, the impact making him lean forward. “Of course we do. Mina brought you to us, so we’ll look out for you. Let’s see what we could do.”

His schedule was out from his stack of books and being passed around the table before Marco could say a word. He watched groups of three and four teenagers leaning over and muttering to themselves before shrugging and digging into his bag for his sandwich. If they wanted to help him, then he wouldn’t argue. He would just have to use an upcoming weekend to bake copious amounts of cookies to show his thanks. Not even his old high school had been so friendly.

Marco dug into his lunch, paying attention to the conversation at the other end of the table until he felt someone tap his leg. He turned to see Reiner leaning back against the table. The big blond grinned and raised his hand so he could point to the other end of the table. “While they figure your schedule out, join the conversation. We’re trying to figure out who had the worse summer. So far, it’s Franz. He got stuck with his grandmother all the way up in the middle of nowhere.”

Marco glanced up at Franz just in time to catch the boy shudder. He offered Franz an apologetic smile before turning his attention back to Reiner. “I think I lost. My summer wasn’t too bad.”

“That’s for us to judge. What did you do?”

“My family went to the beach. It’s kind of a tradition.” He paused to take a bite of his sandwich, using the time it took to chew to fight back a blush. It would be easier to edit his story, at least until he got the measure of the people that Mina had brought him to hang out with. “I met someone down there, a _friend_.”

Despite the stress he put on the word he got everyone’s attention. Even the conversation about his schedule stopped.

Marco glanced around, hoping that someone else would speak up, but everyone’s attention was on him. Even Mina was signaling him to go on. He was about to shake his head and pass the story off to someone else when one of the girls from the end of the table spoke up.

“Don’t just leave it there, cinnamon bun, tells us more.”

Marco blushed at the nickname, but caved. He picked at the corner of his sandwich wrapper, preferring to stare at the table instead of at all the teenagers looking at him expectantly. “It was maybe our third or fourth day there, and I met this guy…”


	2. Steps Towards Freedom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: Family. Part of my [Dog Park AU](http://eachainn.tumblr.com/post/76804394119/marco-knew-it-was-going-to-be-a-bad-couple-of-days)

Marco had always enjoyed having a large family, it was something to brag about in college or in the office. It had been comfortable then too, holidays had meant a mass of people he was familiar with. There had always been someone there, or someone that he could turn to. Of course, having such a large family meant that there would always be problems, but Marco had always enjoyed solving them. There were some days when his job in the police was frustrating because nothing was going anywhere or no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t make the world just the smallest bit better. Helping someone get through their problem was sometimes enough to make him feel better.

Beyond that, a big family meant that he always had a support network. He could fall and there would always be someone to catch him.

Now, he wished that he hadn’t had so many family members and that they didn’t live so close to him.

Marco winced at the sound of plates rattling in his kitchen, itching to get out of his bed and charge in there to take over. But he knew what would happen if he tried to do that. He could make it into the kitchen of his apartment with no problem, he had worked out the distances with his lack of depth perception. It was running the gauntlet between his mother and aunt that he didn’t look forward to.

As soon as he stepped into the kitchen, they would try to shuffle him back into his room. The kitchen was a dangerous place for someone like him, the newly crippled. There were knives, things that could break, he could over extend himself; the list went on. It was a speech that was delivered every time he tried to get up and move around the apartment. Apparently, the only safe place was in his bed, waiting for things to be brought to him. His mother even insisted on helping him to the bathroom.

Marco tipped his head back and closed his eyes, wishing that his mother and aunt would go home. He was tired of people around the house, he was tired of his family ‘just passing by’ to make sure that he was alright. He was especially tired of waking up suddenly, whether it was because of some nightmare about the building coming down on him again, rolling onto his bad side and waking up in pain or because one of his family panicked and woke him up to check that he was still alive.

He was just tired. Tired of people in his apartment. Tired of being in pain. Tired of having people checking up on him all the time.

He was mostly tired of missing his arm and his eye, but he couldn’t do anything about that. At least he could work on the other things, but he would never get his arm and eye back. He could rage and scream as much of his tired body could take, but those would never come back.

Marco shifted on the bed, trying to find a comfortable spot. He doubted that there was one. He had tried every spot on is bed and he was sick of just lying down. He had done enough lying down while he had been recovering in the hospital. Marco knew he wasn’t one hundred percent yet, but at least he was better than he had been when the building had come down on him.

He sighed and tipped his head back up to stare at his ceiling.

What he needed to do was get out and get moving. A walk around the block would be better than just lying around waiting for his mother to take care of him. That was, of course, if he could get around his mother.

Marco dug the heel of one hand into his eye with a groan, suddenly feeling just as trapped as he had been under the building.

“Careful, it’s the only one you have left.”

Marco jumped at the voice, turning so he could see who was standing at his door. He sighed when he saw Ymir, leaning in the doorway, more annoyed that it was another person in his apartment rather than the fact that it was Ymir.

“Wow. You certainly know how to make a girl feel welcome. Not that I blame you.” She walked into the room, dragging a chair that one of his aunts had brought in over to his bedside. “How long have they been here?”

“Aunt Silvia, five hours. Mother hasn’t left since Tuesday, she’s been sleeping on the couch.”

Ymir winced. “No wonder you’re snappy. I would have kicked them out hours ago. You’re fine.”

“I dropped a plate this morning.”

“That’s better than a few months ago when you couldn’t pick up a plate. According to the bits of gossip I hear, you’re recovering well.”

“That’s because I don’t have the chance to do anything. I just lie here.”

Ymir nodded slowly. “I know. If she’s not here, Mom’s threatening to come charging over or worrying about you. I’ve been trying to get you some slack, but she keeps doing this huge speech about how you’ve been hurt. I can repeat it for you if you want.”

“I’m good.”

His sister shrugged and leaned back in the chair. “You probably get enough lectures as it is.” He watched her stretch, Ymir staring up at the ceiling before leaning forward to study him again. “So I’ve been talking to Christa…”

“Is she going to join in the fun?”

“No. Jesus, Marco, you’ve gotten sarcastic while you’ve been cooped up.”

“I would walk it off, if I was allowed outside.”

“I’m getting to that.” Ymir reached into her pocket, pulling out folded pieces of paper. She tossed them onto Marco’s chest, not bothering to wait for him to open them. “Christa’s half sister works for this injured vets thing, prosthetics, therapy, all of that stuff. She heard about you and has been talking to Christa about what can get you up and out of here.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s her job. She says sitting around just makes things worse. Christa didn’t ask about hovering families, but I assume that they’re the next worst.”

Marco fumbled with the papers, opening them up. They were all information pages, the first one detailing the pros and cons of getting a prosthetic. Marco flipped through them, not really reading them. It was all general information, with a number written in on the back of the last page.

“That’s Christa’s half-sister’s number. She said that she would be willing to answer any questions you had.”

Marco stared at the number before flipping back through the pages, finding himself smiling the more he looked through the packet. It wasn’t going to get his arm or eye back, but at least it was something. It was more than the rest of his family was doing. They were just smothering him because they wanted to keep him safe. He understood that, but he _needed_ to do something. Between being stuck in the hospital for almost a year and then three more months kept prisoner in his own apartment he was itching to get moving again.

He let the papers fall onto his chest, looking back up at Ymir. “Tell Christa thank you for me.”

“Tell her yourself.” Ymir stood up, tucking the chair back against the wall. “We’re planning a rescue mission for you. I’ll be by later to pass on the details. Be ready to move on Saturday.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me just yet. We haven’t even gotten you out of here yet.”

“Then thanks for this.” Marco motioned at the papers.

Ymir nodded before leaning close. “Expect a call.”

“My life is in your hands.”

His sister nodded before walking out of his room. Marco heard his aunt call to Ymir into the kitchen. His mother and aunt probably wanted to drag Ymir into some new plan to help him out. Marco was sure that they had some kind of rotation, one of his relatives sleeping in his apartment to make sure that he didn’t die or lose more limbs in his sleep and another coming in to keep the apartment spotless to prevent him from catching something new. He should have known that it was only matter of time before Ymir had gotten sucked in. Then again, if she was put on the rotation, then he might get a chance to escape.

Marco sighed when he heard the start of an argument brewing, Ymir’s voice the clearest out of the three. He wasn’t sure that she would win, but at least she was doing something. It was better than what he was doing, he was just sulking in his room, hoping that they would give up.

He looked down at the papers on his chest, feeling the corner of his mouth twitch up. At least he had something to do with the rest of his day.

Marco sat up, flipping back to the front of the packet. He sighed as he heard the argument escalating, spending a brief moment to pray for her success, even though he was sure that Ymir was going to lose. His mother and his aunt were a force to be reckoned with when they were together. They might just have to sneak him out of his apartment.

With what Ymir had given him, maybe he wouldn’t have to sneak out of his apartment the next time. Maybe next time, he would be able to get out on his own.


	3. Open Air and Sky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: Love is in the air. Roman AU kinda based off [this picture](http://lomonte.tumblr.com/post/103420856738/a-collab-with-this-lovely-person-inverted-typo-i)

Marcus Blossius stared at the stone that rose before him, resting his hand on the top of his _gladius_ to keep himself from reaching out and touching. 

Technically the legion was on Roman land, the whole area had been conquered and put on the path to civilization two years ago. A few miles back was a town well on its way to becoming a city, but this was something different from the huts and the semi-Roman structures that were starting to spring up. This was separate from that, something for the Gauls alone. The others in his cohort might want to knock it down and break it apart. It would make a great prize to bring back for a triumph, if they had one.

The legion was more likely to have nothing to deal with a few discontented Gauls or a governor who had trouble with the power that he was given. They were just stationed in the area to keep the peace and season the younger members. If they were lucky, it would be nothing but routine.

He shook his head and started around the rock, wanting to see what it had on the other side. He could just see how intricate that it was, but it meant nothing to him

He made a full turn around the stone before coming to a stop again, contemplating the carvings. He was given a moment of peace before he heard someone come running up to him.

Marcus sighed and turned around. He expected to see one of his legionaries running up the hill towards him. It seemed like they had been doing nothing else for the past four days, constantly seeking him out for the smallest things. Marcus supposed that it just showed that his tribune trusted him, even if it was with the newest bunch of legionaries. Besides, it was a chance to bring honor to his family’s name.

His father was running for consul again, and probably expecting Marcus to follow. His two sisters, Marca and Marca Secundus, were well on their way to having marriages arranged for them. His youngest sibling, Manius, had been three when he had left Rome and probably forgotten what his big brother looked like. And he was out in the field, earning the military honor that would help him win his own place in the government of the republic.

The man jogged up the hill, Marcus relaxing when he recognized the slave that he had brought with him on their assignment. He smiled and waved Jean closer. Out of everyone that could have come out of their camp, the slave was the only person that he wanted to see. He was tired of dealing with the small minutia of the camp, tired of setting petty differences between the men. Tired of having to tell them over and over that their job was not to charge into one of the nearby villages and raid them for everything that they were worth. The people might not be Roman citizens, but they were part of republic, and it wouldn’t do to cause trouble.

Jean came to a stop beside him, his attention immediately distracted by the rock. Marcus let Jean look it over; it had probably been a long time since he had seen anything of his home. Marcus’ father had bought him at a slave auction when Marcus had been seven. It had been thirteen years since his father had dragged the petulant boy home. So Jean had been at least thirteen years away, maybe more. Marcus had never asked his father about Jean’s history, he had been too busy trying to befriend the boy.

He leaned back against Jean, not caring that they were in the open. The camp was a few miles off and down the hill. Besides, Marcus didn’t think anyone would complain, it would almost be expected from someone like him, although he hated that thought. Jean wasn’t with him because it was expected. He was sure that Jean was with him because the man wanted to be.

“So, what’s on fire?”

Jean snapped out of his reverie, looking away from the stone. He looked Marco up and down before shaking his head. “Your tribune said that the governor has invited him and two others to a dinner. He said to stress that you were invited, _especially_ you. Apparently he knew your father back from when they were in school or…something.” Jean waved his hand dismissively. “It’s tomorrow and you have to go, that’s all that matters.”

Marcus sighed and nodded. That was the kind of invitation that he couldn’t turn down, even though he would rather spend his time wandering the countryside. If they were going to be among the Gauls, then he wanted to know the people they would be with for the next five years. Then he would at least know what they were dealing with if something went wrong. He couldn’t rely on Jean to steer him right on that account. Tribe politics probably changed just as fast as family politics.

“I’ll talk to him when I get back, and take care of whatever had gone on while I was out here. And don’t you dare tell me that nothing has happened.” Knowing his men, Franciscus would probably start a fight with the next man that insulted his wife to be. He had been on edge since they had marched from Rome. He would have to talk to Franciscus again tonight, just to make sure that they had an understanding.

“Marco.” He jumped at Jean’s name for him. Around his house he was known as Marcus the younger, the title of the elder was his father’s. It hadn’t taken long for Jean to demand that Marcus have a nickname and Marcus hadn’t been able to tell him no. It was strangely nice to be singled out, to be granted something that was his instead of his father’s or his grandfather’s.

Jean reached up to take the helmet from Marcus’ head, tucking it under his own arm. Marcus reached over to take the helmet back, only to have his hand caught. “You’re still in armor from review this morning,, which means you’ve been out here all day.”

Marcus nodded slowly. “Not here, but around. I walked through the village first and then came up to the hills. I only stopped here because of the stone.”

“And you have no idea what’s on it.”

“No. I thought you would…” He trailed off when Jean finally looked away. He knew that he had made a mistake when the helmet was shoved back in his hands. Marcus looked down at the helmet in his hands. “I’m sorry.”

“Why should you be? It’s not like you knew. You wouldn’t know, no one asked.”

“Jean.”

“Don’t bother, alright. Just don’t be late for your dinner.”

He started to storm off, Marcus dropping his helmet to reach for Jean. He managed to grab onto his friend’s arm, tugging Jean back to him. Jean put up some resistance, but Marcus could pull him back to him. Jean had muscles from years of work, but Marcus had army training behind him. “Jean, I want to know. I want to know about you, about where we are, about what this means. I want to know everything you can tell me.”

Jean watched him warily, Marcus hating the divide between them There were moments when they were friends, something that they had kept from childhood. And then there were times when they were slave and master again, and Marcus hated every moment of it. If he could, he would have freed Jean years ago, but Jean was his father’s, on loan while he was away with the army because they knew each other well. There was no one else that Marcus trusted to watch his back.

He couldn’t stop his fingers from stroking over Jean’s arm, the motion seeming to do something that his words hadn’t been able to do. Jean stepped back towards him, staring at the armor that Marcus was wearing. In that moment, he wanted to strip off all the armor and stop being Centurion Marcus Blossius. He wanted to be Jean’s Marco again, more than anything else in the world.

Jean walked to him, Marcus letting go of Jean’s arm as the man circled the rock. He came back, Marcus relieved when Jean stood close to him again.

“It’s a carving of a god. I don’t know which one.”

Marcus looked the rock up and down before huffing. “So, no temple.”

“This is the temple.” Jean waved at their surroundings. “We….They don’t need all of that fancy stuff. Your gods might be the rulers of all the gods, but they are gods of four walls and marble. Theirs are the gods of the open air and sky.”

“Open air and sky?” Marcus leaned closer, glad that Jean turned to look at him. He couldn’t help himself from stroking his hand over Jean’s cheek, trailing it down to where Jean’s hair had been cut short. “I thought that’s what our gods were. They might sit in temples, but they’re out here. The Greeks said they sat on Olympus.”

“Is that some fancy throne?”

“It’s a mountain.” Marcus watched as Jean turned to look at him, only managing to keep his serious expression on his face for a moment before he broke. “There might be a city on top of there.”

“A city, huh?” Jean was stepping closer to him, his chest pressing against Marcus’ armor. “What happened to being in the open air and sky?”

“It’s on top of a mountain.” Marcus wasn’t paying attention to what he was saying. He couldn’t when Jean was leaning up toward him. He wrapped an arm around Jean’s waist, pulling him closer. “That counts, right? Olympus is a very important mountain.”

It took Jean a while to collect himself. His friend blinked rapidly before giving Marcus a slow smile. “Fuck Olympus.”

Marcus smiled, only having a moment to gloat before Jean was pulling him into a kiss and onto the ground.


	4. In Memorium

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: Holiday

The square in front of the castle was crowded with people, all of them shuffling forward at the same slow pace. A few of them were half turned toward the three soldiers in their dress uniforms standing on the steps, but most were staring at the large stone that rose above their heads. The people moved forward, heading towards the base of the large stone even as the people on the steps spoke.

“Today we gather to memorialize the day that led to the victory of humanity over the titans. The push back began in this city, on this day. Five years ago today, humanity won its first victory against the titans.  Five years ago today, we stood up and began to take our freedom into our hands. Five years ago, the first steps to our new government were taken and long live Queen Historia for standing strong during this fight.”

The crowd paused in their shuffling to lift their hands up and cheer, filling the air with “Long live Queen Historia!”

It took a few minutes for the crowd to go silent, the soldiers waiting in front of the castle waited until the cheers petered out. Only then did the woman in front speak again.

“Five years ago, we took the first steps to exterminating all the titans. But we could not have done that without the brave sacrifices of the soldiers who fought in Trost those five years ago. Today we commemorate their sacrifice. By the order of Queen Historia, we have raised this memorial in their honor. On it are the names of all who died defending humanity. This monument will stand for the rest of all time to remind us of the cost of our freedom.”

The soldiers saluted the monument, holding that position for a moment before turning and marching back into the castle. The people continued their slow shuffle to the monument, some of them carrying flowers while other just walked up and reached up to touch a name or two.

The crowd gave way for the soldiers among them, nodding to them while the children saluted. Some of the soldiers reached down to ruffle the kid’s hair, but one was focused on the monument alone. He made his way through the crowd, a squad trailing along behind him.

He stopped by the monument, looking up at the names. He dropped his flower at the base of the monument, not watching where it landed among all the others at the base of the monument. The soldier just reached up, trailing his hands over one column of names until his fingers dropped into the grooves of one. He traced the name through before patting the stone.

“We did it, Marco. We’re free.”


	5. Mail Myself to You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An AU where Marco lives and joins the Military Police. Written for the prompt: letters

Marco shuffled into his office, groping behind him to find the door. He swung it shut, not concerned when he didn’t hear the door settle into place. He was too tired to care. He had been on patrol from dawn and the sun was just setting now.

He groaned and rubbed at the small of his back. There was a growing ache there, where he was pushed against a building by a crowd of angry people. Bread prices were going up again, which meant that there would be more protests as the week went on. Marco sighed and stared at his desk. The people of Stohess would start seeking him out to ask what the Military Police were going to do to help. Marco wasn’t even sure he could do anything.

Commander Dawk hadn’t had much time to pay attention to the people of Stohess. The commander was spending more and more time in Mitras than with the Military Police. They had been told it had to do with the coup and that their commander was needed to keep the general peace of the country. While their commander was away, they were in charge of the safety of the city. They were the elite forces and it would be an easy task for them.

Marco sighed and limped over to his desk, trying to ignore the ache in his feet. There wouldn’t have been a problem, but the harvest hadn’t been good that year and there were food shortages from the panic earlier in the year. Any reserves had been eaten by the people who had taken shelter under the cities while the titans had wandered behind Wall Rose. Now people were demanding the food that was no longer there, and many of the people in the Military Police didn’t know what to do. While Marco had been trying to keep the peace, a few of the soldiers in his squad had suggested opening fire on the people or sending them out of the city to help equalize the situation.

He sunk into his chair with a groan, trying not to look at the paperwork that was waiting for him. He just needed a few moments to _not_ think about what he would have to do tomorrow. What Marco wanted to do more than anything was kick off his boots and sleep, but that was impossible. One of the other captains would be coming in to talk to him about what they should do about the crowds, and Marco didn’t have high hopes for the meeting. It was enough to make him wish that Marlowe was back with them; at least he would have the sense not to antagonize the hungry masses.

Marco let himself sit for a few moments before shaking his head and leaning forward. He didn’t have the time to just sit around, there were other affairs that he had to see to, especially since he was spending all day making sure that some of the younger members of the Military Police didn’t massacre the people of Stohess.

He rolled his head around, wincing as his neck cracked. He reached up to rub at the back of his neck, letting his head hang down as he stared at the paperwork scattered across it.

There was an entire stack of time off requests waiting for his approval, something that he didn’t feel comfortable giving. They needed all the soldiers that they could get. Marco reached out to carefully set the stack under his desk. If the other captains were coming in, then he didn’t want them to see the requests. Knowing the other captains, they would just approve all of them and make do with the soldiers that they had left.

With the stack of requests put away, his desks looked cleaner. Now he just had a few scattered reports that he had to read through and notes to write his own reports. Set on top of the papers was his mail for the day, Marco smiling when he saw the familiar handwriting on it.

He reached out and opened the letter, settling back in his chair. Now that the letter was here, everything else could wait.

It took him a while to open it with one hand, his excitement making him fumble the paper. Marco finally spread the paper out onto his desk, leaning over it to read what his friends had written out.

_It’s been a while, but here’s news that we’re still alive. It was hit and miss there for a while, but we managed it. We’re off to find our suicidal bastard now. We have some clues to where he is. We hope to be moving out soon. Hopefully we can settle this quickly and be back. We’ve heard that you are having trouble up your way. I wish you luck and will write something longer when there’s more. Thanks for keeping us up to date on events there. H and M send their regards.  
-A_

Marco smiled to himself, setting the note aside. He would piece together what Armin said later; there was always important news in the notes. Marco often waited to really pay attention, more happy to hear from his friends. Since that section of the Scouting Legion had gone underground Marco had spent his days worrying that he’d hear the news that they had been captured and killed. Armin’s letters were often the only news he got about his friends.

He shifted through the other papers, his smile widening when he saw that there was another note. It was rare that some of the others wrote to him, only because they were too busy. Even Armin’s notes were short and to the point.

Marco shakily unfolded the next note, sighing when he recognized the handwriting.

_Hey Marco, it’s been a while, huh? I meant to write so many times, but I didn’t have the time. Too much running around and fighting the good fight. You know the drill. At least Armin has been keeping you up to date. That’s better than nothing. Hopefully he’s been giving you enough information that you won’t worry too much, you have your own problems to deal with._

_I’ve heard it’s getting bad up where you are, riots and the whole deal. Promise me that you’re staying safe. It’s hard enough to be running around out here on our own, I don’t need the news that something has gone wrong with you. Keep yourself safe, you hear me. I want to be able to come back to you when all of this is over. As soon as we get Eren out of here, that’s what I’m going to do. I miss being near you._

_Keep an eye out for me. I’ll be coming back to you soon._

_Jean_

Marco sighed and rested his hand on the slightly smudged letters. It was the closest he had gotten to Jean for months, and it almost made the separation worse. It made him want to saddle up his horse and ride out to find where Jean and the others were. Unfortunately, that would mean leaving his post and the people in the hands of the other captains. If Marco rode out, he was sure that he would ride back into Stohess and find that the people had been massacred or thrown out of the city. He was needed in Stohess more than he was needed with Jean and the others.

He groaned and leaned onto his desk, staring at Jean’s letter. The best he could do was write back, but that wouldn’t be a suitable replacement for actually being there. It was still the best he could do.

Marco glanced over at the door. There was no sign of the other captains coming in, but Marco was sure that they would show up. The riots were something that none of them could ignore. The most they could be were late, which was just fine. It would give him the time to at least start a letter to Jean and the time to think of a reply to Armin.

He reached out to pull a clean sheet of paper over. His pen was a bit harder to find, Marco patting down the papers on his desk until he located it. He shook his head at the unorganized state of his desk. When he had a free day, he would have to clean his desk. Maybe then he would be able to find things faster and get his reports out on time, not that anyone else noticed.

Marco leaned over the paper, his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he carefully worked out his letters. They still weren’t up to his handwriting before Trost, but it was far better than the scribbling that he had managed in the days after. Every letter still took his full concentration, but at least they were legible.

_Jean,_

_Things are starting to get bad here. People are rioting because the food prices are rising. I don’t know how far out the rise in prices go, but keep a look out for that. It might start affecting you and the people that are helping you out. Don’t worry about me though, everything it under control. Some of the other captains want to take extreme actions, but it’s just a matter of talking the people down long enough for us to start making actual progress. I’m hoping that some of the Trost merchants will be willing to help us out by bringing in large amounts of food at a lower price. I’m sure that they’ll be able to make up the profit, and it will help Trost rebuild. It’s just a matter of getting the others to agree, which might take forever_

_Other than that things are still the same. I go on patrol, I stand and make sure that the crowds don’t get out of hand. I kind of miss the other members of my squad, but I’m glad that they’ve found a place with you guys. Go easy on the two of them for me, alright? They’re good at what they do if you give them some free rein._

_On the same vein, I’m going to tell_ you _to be careful. I want you back in one piece just as much as you want me to remain that way. Stay safe and I expect you back as soon as you can._

_I miss you and I love you,_

_Marco_


	6. In Possession of a Good Fortune

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: 60's Theme. 1860s totally count, mostly because I wanted to do a Victorian Era AU.  
> 

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a woman of a certain age, mild personality and sound dowry must begin her search for a husband. Less acknowledged, but certainly just as truthful, is the fact that these ladies must have an escort, a job that usually falls to their brother or male relative nearest in age to them. The father of these gracefully trained young ladies is often too busy with their own business and, therefore, the providing of dowries, to watch for prospective husbands. It falls to the male relative to make sure that their ladies are introduced to the right people and courted in an appropriate way.

Most young men bend to this duty without a complaint as they only had to escort one or two sisters into society and even then his sisters were quick to find themselves swept away by appropriate husbands and into a happy marriage. Some of these young men were not at lucky, sometimes having many sisters and so found themselves spending their seasons escorting the young women around with no time for themselves. Marco Bodt was one of these unfortunates.

Marco Bodt, over the course of his twenty-five years on earth, found himself the older brother of five sisters, all within a year of each other. He was not too bothered by them for most of his life, until they started coming out into society one after another. It was then that Marco found himself at a loss. There was always a ball to take one of them to or an opera. Sometimes there were multiple events happening on one night, which lead to Marco begging his cousin to help spread the load. Even Mr. Bodt lent a hand to the affair, eager to see his daughters married happily and, above all, quickly.

Success had been found for two, Marie and Marcia Bodt being married off to two wonderful men, one a lawyer and one a member of Parliament. The family had breathed a sigh of relief before putting throwing themselves once again into the swirl of society, this time their focus on their eldest daughter and the last remaining two.

It was in this push that Marco found himself in the company of his cousin, Beaure, and his three sisters at a ball at Lord Reiss’ house. Sarah, the youngest, had been paired off with a suitable young lord from the north and Beaure had gone with her to meet with some young men of his own acquaintance. Isabella, the second oldest, had found one of her friends who had married a few months before and was busy chattering away with her in full sight of her older brother. Ymir was the only one left standing by Marco. Her attention was on the dance floor, but not for her own good.

“Baron Titus?”

Marco shook his head. “You’d be bored of him in a month.”

“Not for me.” Ymir’s gaze strayed over to one of the young ladies standing to one side of the room, close to the windows. Marco glanced over himself, watching as one of the young women glanced over at Ymir and smiled. He didn’t have to look over at his sister to know that she was smiling back at the woman, he could hear it in her voice. “I’m spoken for.”

Marco sighed, but didn’t say anything. He was used to the company of his oldest sister. 

Ever since she had come out into society, she had been focused on attending parities and talking to other young women her age, but never to any of the men. Marco had never gotten Ymir to admit to anything out loud, but it wasn’t too hard to tell that her interests lay elsewhere. The object of her interest had fluxuated over the seasons, firstly because there was a wealth of women to choose from at the start of the season and secondly because that wealth diminished with each event as they paired themselves off. Marco was sure that there were a few that honestly returned Ymir’s affections, but weren’t brave enough to venture into society on their own or put themselves up for that kind of scandal. He was almost ashamed that his own subterfuge was easier.

A confirmed bachelor was a state that society didn’t comment on. And, as an officer in the army, it was never commented on that Marco surrounded himself with other men. If there were times when he and his friends seemed a little too close, then it was never commented on. At least he could hide behind the camaraderie that was expected of him and never bend to the will of society. Ymir would have to either marry or content herself with being a spinster and stuck in the same role as she was now. Marco couldn’t see his sister standing for it, not when she had spent years informing their mother that she would marry no man. Their mother seemed to take that as Ymir being stubborn and, therefore, a challenge. Marco knew that Ymir was waiting for the right girl to rush away with.

He cleared his throat, leaving Ymir to continue her silent conversation with the small blonde across the room. Knowing his sister as he did, Marco was sure that Ymir would leave his side to start a verbal conversation, leaving him with two choices. He could make the rounds of the room, saying hello to the people that he knew and checking up on Isabella and Sarah or he could stay where he was and enjoy the swirl of people around him. After the last few weeks of drilling new recruits and shouting over other officers in meetings, Marco wasn’t sure he knew how to talk to polite society anymore.

At least Ymir understood, the two of them had always been close, even when Ymir had been persuaded that dresses were the only appropriate attire for young ladies. To the best of Marco’s knowledge, Ymir had bent to their parent’s will in that, but she still wore a pair of trousers under her dress, in case things got interesting.

Marco sighed, noticing that Isabella was trying to surreptitiously signal him from over where she was standing. Apparently Franz and Hannah Kafka wanted to speak to him, although Marco was almost afraid to go over and ask. The two ladies could produce an alarming number of names of unattached women, perfect for the wife of an army officer.

He pretended not to have seen his sister motioning for him. Instead, he focused on Ymir, about to offer to get her another drink when she grabbed onto his arm. Two hard tugs on his sleeve were enough to get his attention, but it took Ymir practically pulling him into position for him to see who she was pointing to.

Marco ignored the rude gesture only to find himself staring at Mikasa Ackerman. He frowned, about to ask what the daughter of a well known merchant had to do with him when Ymir shoved him to the side with a fierce, whispered “Not her.”

He looked past Mikasa and the familiar figures of Eren Jaeger and Armin Arlert. By the time Ymir stopped moving him, he found himself staring at the door.

Marco was about to ask why Ymir would want to leave so suddenly when he saw the man that had just entered. There was a brief moment of shock when Marco realized that he didn’t recognize the man, even after multiple seasons of attending fashionable events. That the man was someone new was not the only reason his stomach flipped. More than a new face, the man was handsome, especially in his green military jacket. Marco swallowed, about to lean back and ask Ymir who he was, only to find that his sister had deserted him.

He glanced frantically around the room, finding her on her way to talk to the blonde girl she had been flirting with earlier. Marco sighed and belatedly obeyed Isabella’s summons, sneaking over to her side.

Isabella didn’t look surprised to see him edging up their way. She just reached out to grab his arm, her attention taken up by the man at the door. “What a dashing figure. Do you know him?”

“I thought you would.”

“And so you finally paid attention to me.” Isabella hit his arm lightly. “What kind of escort are you?”

“What kind of gossip are you?”

Isabella laughed at the rebuttal. “Touché, dear brother. How about a deal? I will extend my powers to discover his name if you extend yours to discover more about him.”

“Agreed.” Marco let Isabella slip from his arm, but he remained in place until his sister had insinuated herself in the next group of ladies. He was sure that his sister was already hard at work, expecting him to come back with equally as exciting results. 

As the older brother of five sisters, Marco knew exactly what she was looking for. The man’s station must be discovered, as did his point of origin, employment and marital status. Marco would never hear the end of it if he missed any of those key points. Sarah and Isabella would need that information to form their own opinions, especially if he was single. Neither of them would mind being married to a handsome army officer.

The only flaw in the plan was that Marco wouldn’t mind getting to know the handsome officer either.

The options left to him were simple, he could talk to the officer and pass on all the information that he got or he could simply forget. The former would make sure that the officer was safe from the clutches of his sisters and their coterie of friends while the latter would disappoint them terribly. Marco wasn’t sure he could live with their disappointment, not even for his own happiness.

The officer caught his gaze, Marco freezing in place as the man looked him up and down. The tight knot that had been forming in his gut started to relax at the cocky grin that was thrown his way.

Maybe failing to inform his sisters everything about the officer wouldn’t be such a betrayal. The man looked more interested in him than any of the other ladies at the ball.

Marco took a deep breath and let it out slowly, hoping to calm his nerves. Thus fortified, Marco stepped away from the wall and into the fray.


	7. Met a Boy, Cute as Can Be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: Photo Booth. Another bit of the modern day Grease AU.

Marco wiggled his shoulders into the mattress, almost relieved that it still felt the same. Even with his mother’s offer to buy him a new mattress, one that didn’t squeak so much when he moved around, Marco had turned it down. If they were moving, he wanted as much of the old house to come with them as possible.

It wasn’t that he minded moving to Trost, he didn’t mind at all. It was just that everything was too new.

His bedroom was a weird shape, and so much larger than before. The layout of the house was different, which his sister’s room nearly at the end of the hall instead of right by his. The stairs bent in the opposite direction and they even had a room just for sitting and talking with guests instead of having to pile into the family room. And that was just the house.

Marco didn’t know Trost like he knew Jinae. The streets went from wide to tiny narrow things that were for pedestrians only. Trost was an old city, certainly older than Jinae and it looked it. Marco could look out his window into the historical district, which didn’t look too different from the rest of the city. Save for one tiny corner that looked modern, Trost could have been dropped right from medieval times.

He sighed and turned to look at the rest of his room, which was nearly completely empty save for the piles of boxes. His father would get back into town with the moving truck tomorrow, which meant that they would finally have furniture. Then, he would finally be able to unpack and start making his room more like home. And all just a week before school started.

Marco sighed, rubbing the tip of his nose. The tight schedule was almost enough to make him wish that they had foregone their usual vacation to the beach. Then again, Marco wouldn’t have changed that for the world. 

If they hadn’t gone to the beach, then he never would have met Jean.

He sat up on his mattress, staring at the only decoration that he had put up on his walls. It was a small strip of paper with four photos on it, three of them with him and Jean making completely ridiculous faces. In the fourth, they were kissing.

Marco blushed, reaching up to brush his fingers over the fourth picture. He already missed the beach, and Jean. It didn’t mater how many text messages they sent to each other, it wasn’t the same as staying up until three in the morning, talking on the beach.

He turned away from the strip of photos, checking his phone again.

There wasn’t a new text, and Marco didn’t expect there to be one. Jean had said that he was driving home from the beach that day, so Marco didn’t expect to get any texts from Jean until later that night. He just had to content himself with the last message that Jean had sent him.

_‘It’s been two days. I miss you.’_

Marco sighed and flopped backward onto his bed, letting the phone rest on his chest. He tipped his head back so he could see the photos again, smiling up at the picture of Jean pretending to eat his right arm.

“I miss you too.”


End file.
